


Thirty Years in the Dark

by LunaDeSangre



Series: The Unforgivens [2]
Category: X JAPAN
Genre: First Person Narrator, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaDeSangre/pseuds/LunaDeSangre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Yoshiki has locked himself in his ivory tower again, and hide tries to keep Taiji's head out of the water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty Years in the Dark

The binds are as closed as they can get, for dusty old broken things that neither of us ever thought to replace. So of course the late afternoon sunlight still comes in – to play on his bare chest in thin stripes, like long freakish fingers on familiar beloved skin. As usual, I stare too much. He’s fucking beautiful.

Sometimes, I wonder what it is with light always painting him some sort of warm color. I wonder if it's warming him – god knows right now _I_ feel fucking cold sitting on the floor twisting the phone cable – but he's sprawled on the bed staring blankly at the ceiling fan and the phone is still ringing endlessly in my ear.

Yoshiki is supposed to have an answering machine. I know, because I hear it too often, clipped impersonal voice asking to _please leave a message_ – I never do, I call to talk to _him_ , not to a fucking machine.

It looks like he plugged the whole fucking thing off.

"You should go to his apartment."

From right behind me, and I jump, because he was just there on the bed, and I haven't heard him move at all, not even the slightest rustle, and sneaking around has never been one of Taiji’s skills. At least, not with _me_. And it hurts, that he'd somehow judge it necessary to fall back into it, even subconsciously. But he just looks tired and lost, leaning against the wall with messy hair and sad eyes.

"I'm not leaving you." And it's probably a lot more than just not leaving him alone here for a few hours, probably way too much, but I mean every bit of it even if he doesn't accept it.

"You should." Defeat. Defeat, in his sliding to the floor, in him refusing to meet my eyes, in his blank face, in his whole being.

 _Fuck you_ , I'm _not_.


End file.
